Page 47 of Soulmate of the Mafia King
Iwiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, and the now-old injury on my ribs tugged. Not painfully. Just enough that I could never really forget how close I’d come to meeting the reaper and seeing what my old man thought of the other side. According to Paige, Cora sent a letter a few months ago. She’d quit the force, just like she’d promised, and taken up some private investigation and bodyguard work. When she’d told me that, I’d made a mental note to stay out of Upstate New York as much as I could. Eight months after being stabbed by the woman with a mirror shard, I still ached. I didn’t exactly need to see what the hell she could do when she made it her job.
“So we’ve got two shipments of weapons coming in tonight, and a third shipment of luxury cars going out,” Stan said.
I nodded. “And the cars are going?”
Stan tapped the tablet Lyle had finally convinced him to use at least while walking the warehouse floor instead of the reams of paperwork my right hand preferred. “Southeast Asia, already tagged for buyers.”
“Good, good.”
“Hey, Mr. Conti.” One of my newer warehouse foremen waved.
I waved back with a smile. Calling him newer undersold the guy, really. He’d come over from one of Killian’s warehouses after rumor started spreading about that private island Killian bought. Power had shifted in Philly over the last few months. No one would fuckwith Mano Della Morte, just like always, but in the wake of the Mansion, he’d nearly taken up Riccardo Marino’s role. Not in the sex-trafficking bastard way, but in the foot-out-the-door way. When people talked about Killian now, it was in past tense more often than not. He hadn’t left the life yet, but with the wedding only a few days away, everyone saw the writing on the wall.
Carp walked up to Stan and me. “Thought you might’ve been dropped on the warehouse floor, it took you so goddamned long to get over to my side of town.”
I clutched my chest dramatically. “Don’t you know I’m hurt? Take pity on an old man.”
Carp rolled his eyes. “At this rate, I’ll have to stab you again so you keep having an excuse.”
The three of us laughed.
“Well, if you drove all the way over here, give me the fucking report,” I said after a moment.
“Everything’s looking good,” he said.
“Groundbreaking,” I replied.
Carp slugged me in the shoulder. “Douche. I got the whole south side of the city to keep an eye on. You know how many goddamn warehouses that is?”
“Eleven, and I also know you promised you could handle it.” I grinned. “You asking for a demotion?”
Stan smiled. “I’m sure I could handle another eleven with this digital doodad.”
Carp and I exchanged a long look, then burst out laughing again. I clapped Stan on the shoulder.
“I’ll get right on that,” I said. “Just as soon as you learn what the fuck the thing in your hands is called.”
Stan scowled, but amusement shimmered in his eyes. Sometimes I wondered if the older man was really as out of touch as he seemed.
“Let’s load up,” I said. “Teddy and Lyle are waiting. You guys joining the tour?”
Stan shook his head. “Shipment’s too soon. I want to keep an eye out.”
Carp headed out with me, and we drove in separate cars to the warehouse on the outskirts of the city we’d taken over from that bastard Tony so long ago. A couple of bruisers, including Jer, who’d put on a hell of a lot of muscle in the past year, greeted us at the door and let us in.
The place had been turned into a tech paradise. I could barely walk for the cables covering the floor, and Lyle held court amongst geeks in the center of the web, with a few assistants running around the outside. More than one of the people in here came to us from the Haven, women with IT skills who wanted to do what Paige was doing, just from a little further away.
“Any news?” I called over the hum of machines.
Lyle looked up. “Um, yeah. Daniela, you got that printout?”
One of the women we’d rescued from the Mansion popped up like a gopher from behind one of the dozens of screens in the room. “Right here.”
I plucked the pile of papers from her hands and shuffled through. Two traffickers in Chicago on the hook, looking to buy one of the fake shipments of women we consistently put out feelers on. A lead on a ring in Europe that passed women back and forth like a fucking trading card game. The first whispers of something kicking up in LA, and the opportunity to get in on the ground floor.
“Good work.” I handed the papers to Carp. “I think we chase Chicago for now, but keep an eye on the other two. The ring’s gonna need a little more planning to crack.”
“Roger.” Lyle ducked back behind his computer.
